


Winter Wonderland

by define_serenity



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Snow, Snowball Fight, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/define_serenity/pseuds/define_serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter's never been Colin's favourite season. He thinks (or rather, he knows) that it stems from that one winter when he was nine and he spent the entire winter break sick at home. </p><p>To be honest, snow sort of makes him sad in general. Always has. He doesn't tell Bradley, mostly because it's a strange thing to admit to and really, what a cheap excuse for dragging a hug out of your boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wonderland

There's this one spot in their flat – it's a tiny thing, a single rental in the heart of London, but it's the best they could afford living on Bradley's wages – but there's this one spot, in front of the window staring out over the park, a huge window pane that could easily seat two people, but when Colin huddles up on top of it in a blanket he insists on occupying the entire thing by stretching his legs out in front of him.  
  
In the summer, whenever he's not outside sketching, he'll be on that window pane, his sketchbook not far out of reach. He'd draw the old lady who passes every day with her two black schnauzers – dubbed Buffy and Spike by Bradley – sometimes she'll sit down and watch them play in the grass so that Colin has the time to draw her properly. But that only ever lasts so long; the window pane is hard-board wood and his bum starts hurting when he sits in the same position for hours on end.  
  
Their first Christmas in the flat, Bradley has his mom make him a cushion to cover the window pane. It officially marks it as Colin's spot.  
  
From then on, whenever Colin is at home and he's not washing up, doing laundry, watching television, or _making_ dinner (because he does _eat_ in his spot when Bradley's not at home), he spends in front of the window, watching the world outside his window as if it's the most interesting thing there is.  
  
"Sometimes I think you love that spot more than you love me," Bradley says, passing the window while sweeping the floor.  
  
"Don't be daft. Where else am I going to sketch?" Colin asks, getting up from the window sill.  
  
Bradley looks over his shoulder comprehensively, at the little desk they crammed into their tiny living room when they first moved in, because Colin had insisted he needed a work space to study. Colin's mouth quirks to the right when Bradley looks at him again, his eyes going wide too. ( _Yes, Colin, do explain that_ , Bradley communicates wordlessly, _is it because your desk is always covered in the clutter I complain about over and over again?_ ) But Colin – strategically – doesn't answer – an answer avoided is a question unanswered, and Bradley hadn't really asked in the first place.  
  
"Yeah," Bradley smiles, wrinkling his nose, pats Colin's cheek, and plants a loving kiss on the same cheek before going back to his sweeping.  
  
Bradley—Colin. One—nought.  
  
  
  
  
Winter's never been Colin's favourite season. He thinks (or rather, he _knows_ ) that it stems from that one winter when he was nine and he spent the entire winter break sick at home. His brother Neil had convinced the neighbourhood kids that he was highly contagious (and his bright-red dripping nose had made it easy for them to believe) and he found that even when he went back to school, his own friends were still avoiding him. Bradley will later tell him he thought that would have also put him off colds and overall sickness.  
  
"I got over that," Colin had answered, and it sent Bradley into a fit of laughter that he didn't recover from for a whole ten minutes.  
  
To be honest, snow sort of makes him sad in general. Always has. He doesn't tell Bradley, mostly because it's a strange thing to admit to and really, what a cheap excuse for dragging a hug out of your boyfriend. But there's something about how the little flakes dwindle down to the ground, little crystal palaces with the shortest lifespan known to man, to join the white ranks of the other flakes already fallen. There's something almost Unitarian about it, he thinks, but he's not altogether sure what that word exactly means.  
  
At the same time it's beautiful, and staring at it now might be consuming way too much of his time.  
  
"Shouldn't you be revising?" Bradley asks, kicking the door shut behind him with one leg, putting the groceries down on the kitchen counter. Normally they go shopping together, but Colin has exams coming up and Bradley had insisted (after long complaints from Colin) that for a little while Colin will have to trust that he knows what to get them.  
  
"Hmm?" Colin answers now, staring out of the window, noticing how Mrs Giles (yes, _also_ dubbed so by Bradley) is taking extra care of where she puts down her feet; with this amount of snow anyone has to watch out, especially the uncoordinated, like Colin.  
  
"Re-vi-sing." Bradley almost spells it out, and he tips his head with every syllable he pronounces. "You know, that clever thing students do to pass exams."  
  
Colin looks at him and his eyes narrow precariously. "I'm taking a break." Only it doesn't come out quite as convincing as he hoped it would sound. It's been snowing almost non-stop all day and it's _distracting_ , and the lack of curtains in the flat makes it _very hard_ for him to focus on anything at all.  
  
"Ah," Bradley concedes, and tiptoes over to the window pane. "Well then," he starts, daring a peek at Colin's – still empty – notepad, "since you're taking a break, maybe you can help me clear away some of the snow?" Colin's eyes shoot up at Bradley's, and he knows that Bradley is teasing him – he's wrapped up in _two_ blankets for God's sake and if it hadn't looked completely ridiculous indoors he'd be wearing that warm woolly hat Bradley got him last week. Sometimes he really wishes Bradley was bad at reading him.  
  
"I should start— _revising_ , again." He nods.  
  
Bradley grins.  
  
Colin hates to admit it, but yeah, that's _two_ for Bradley.  
  
  
  
  
The snow doesn't relent; every time the weather forecast predicts snow it  _bloody_ _snows_. It gets to a point where people outside don't even have any spare room to put the snow when clearing their stoops. Sadly, Bradley happens to be one of those people who absolutely _love_ snow; a week in advance he's already talking about their first white Christmas together and how they can stay in this year, warm and cosy and not to mention _safe_ , instead of going to see their families. _Warm and cosy_ is all good and well for Colin, but he could have done without the one-sided snowball fight.  
  
"Oh come on, Col, it was just a bit of snow!" Bradley calls after him, but Colin rushes up the stairs, fumbling for his keys, which his winter gloves makes rather difficult. He succeeds eventually and hurries indoors to the reasonable warmth of their tiny flat. He hears the door closing behind him a few moments later. "Are you angry?" Bradley asks, a slight incredulity in his tone.  
  
"No," Colin answers sternly, yanking off his gloves and scarf, then quickly unzipping his winter coat, but all the shifting and turning doesn't really help.  
  
"Then why are you snapping at me?" Bradley asks, already out of his own coat. He never wears as many layers as Colin does and still manages to keep warm.

Colin doesn't answer this time, but shrugs out of his hoodie as if his life depended on it, and then his long-sleeved tee comes off too.

"And why are you— taking your clothes off?" Bradley frowns.  
  
"Because there is _snow_. _running_. _down_. _my_. _back_!" Colin almost shrieks, finally strips out of his undershirt, and surely – a chunk of _actual ice_ drops to the ground. He shivers, glad to be rid of the uncomfortable cold sting down his back, except now he's standing half-naked in the middle of the living room, his clothes all over the floor, and Bradley staring at him rather dumbfounded. "I hope you're proud of yourself."  
  
"If I'd known it could get you out of your clothes this fast I'd have tried it sooner," Bradley deadpans.  
  
Colin huffs, and crosses his arms over his chest sulkily, even though his fingertips feel ice-cold against his skin.

Bradley clears his throat, forcing himself to reign in his amusement; he walks over to the sofa, grabs the thick fleece blanket, and takes hold of a corner in each hand.

"What are you doing?" Colin asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Bradley takes a step closer in silence, arms held out wide open. "Oh, don't you dare!" Colin exclaims, but knows that if he tries to run he'll probably end up tripping over his own things.  
  
"You've asked for it, Morgan," Bradley says, and comes at him, eyebrows raised like he really did have this coming for disliking snow (and by extension having snow thrown at him by his boyfriend).  
  
" _Bradley_ ," Colin warns one last time, but then Bradley's arms are around him, pinning his own to his body, the blanket between him and Bradley. His feet lift off the ground, but he bends his legs at the knees, because he's way too tall for Bradley to carry him like this. "Let me go-o-o," Colin laughs, but all the air gets pushed out of his lungs when both him and Bradley go tumbling towards the bed, angled just right so that Bradley doesn't fall on top of him.  
  
Of course Colin doesn't really want Bradley to let him go. He's well aware that Bradley wins most of their arguments because of that reason alone.  
  
  
  
  
Colin spends the entire week before Christmas working on his Art History paper about Early Netherlandish painting. The topic had been assigned to him willy-nilly and he was less than excited to do research on Jan Van Eyck and the other Flemish Primitives. Whenever he talks to Bradley about it, he can tell Bradley's genuinely trying to listen, and to keep up, but art isn't Bradley's cup of tea. He spends most of his time in the school library anyway.  
  
There are children playing in the street when he's walking home. The cold clings to his clothes, and the icy wind (where it actually manages to penetrate his ninja outfit) hurts his cheekbones. He can't remember any moment in his life when he wanted to go out and play in the snow so badly past that one Christmas break. Colin figures that maybe it was the _forbidden_ -ness of the whole situation that made the snow so appealing to him, because right now he has a hard time believing he would have ever gone out for snowball fights and building snowmen, and actually having _fun_.  
  
Once home, it almost takes him a full five minutes to disentangle all the different layers he's wearing, his two scarves, his gloves and his hat. Anyone would think that after all that trouble he'd be warmed up, but no, there are definitely parts of him that have gone numb from the cold.  
  
"What is _this_?" Bradley asks when Colin settles next to him on the sofa, huddling under the same blanket Bradley is occupying. "It's only half five and my boyfriend is already joining me on the sofa."

Colin is fairly certain that he doesn't like the sarcasm in Bradley's voice.

"You sure you don't want to go admire the snow some more?" Bradley asks, but already pulls Colin closer in a tight embrace.  
  
"Hmpf," Colin mutters, and buries half his face in Bradley's chest. Bradley's all warm, and for some reason he smells like pines and cookies and, well... _snow_. How is that even possible? What's even stranger is that Colin _likes it_.  
  
"Seen enough snow today, yeah?" Bradley asks, nuzzling his nose in Colin's hair and kissing the top of his head.  
  
"Yeah," Colin sighs, closing his eyes. He's sort of insanely happy that Bradley doesn't make a bigger deal out of it. The room goes silent for a while, safe for the television playing some Christmas movie, and Colin and Bradley's breathing. It always takes Colin a while to warm up, but with Bradley's help – meaning Bradley's warm hands all over his skin – he gets there in a very pleasant way. Until his stomach informs him that he hasn't eaten properly all day, and is basically running on caffeine.  
  
"There's some pie in the fridge," Bradley says. He's grown accustomed to Colin's strange eating habits during stressful periods at school. He might not approve, but Colin's never heard him complain either. Colin gets up reluctantly and saunters over to the kitchen. Something catches his attention before he reaches it.  
  
"What's that?" Colin asks, looking towards his spot at the window.  
  
"It's mistletoe," Bradley answers, and gets up from the sofa.  
  
"I can see that. What's it doing over the window?"  
  
Bradley turns his head for a second and stares at the lonely branch of green pensively; he looks back at Colin and smiles mischievously. "Just giving you an excuse."

Colin's eyes go wide. ( _You...?_ they communicate)

Bradley only keeps smiling. ( _Yeah Col, I know the snow makes you sad, did you really think I wouldn't notice?_ )  
  
  
  
  
It's early morning when Colin settles down in front of the window with a strong cup of coffee. The street lamps outside cast a shimmery glow on an otherwise white landscape. Colin sighs, and checks his watch. 7am. He's got about an hour and a half to get dressed, grab his things together, wrap himself up, walk to the station, and get the tube to school.  
  
"Why—" Bradley's voice sounds from the bedroom door, and Colin almost jumps out of his skin. "—does it not surprise me you have breakfast _there_?"  
  
"Only when I'm alone."  
  
"Hmm." Bradley rubs his eyes wearily, and walks over to him, his bare feet making his steps audible on the wooden floor. He comes to a halt next to Colin, and leans down with his hands on the window pane. "See anything you like?" Bradley asks, fully aware that Colin is only staring at him, and acutely conscious of the mistletoe now dangling over them both. "What's—what's that?" Bradley frowns, and stares past Colin out of the window.  
  
"What's what?" Colin asks, following Bradley's gaze outside the window. He'd missed it before, probably because he wasn't looking for it, but sure as day, in the light of the third street lamp, there are two snowmen waving at them.  
  
"Do you like them?" Bradley is back to staring at him.  
  
Colin grins, broadly, and then looks out of the window again. "Let me guess," he says, pointing towards the snowmen. "Willow and Xander?"  
  
Bradley snorts. "I was thinking more of Colin and Bradley."

Colin is reluctant to admit that he gets all warm and fuzzy inside when he sees _snowman-Colin_ and  _snowman-Bradley_ standing side by side at the edge of the park. Bradley must have spend hours making them yesterday.  
  
Colin will only find this out later, when he's _semi_ gotten over his sadness of snow, that Bradley made the snowmen to give him happy memories of snow to replace the bad ones.

Even later, Colin decides that the snowball fight happened for just about the same reason.

 

 

**\- the end -**

 


End file.
